


Pearls and Motorcycles

by reigningqueenofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords
Summary: Request: Anonymous. Lucifer x Reader based on the song “Daddy Lessons” by Beyoncé?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Anonymous. Lucifer x Reader based on the song “Daddy Lessons” by Beyoncé?

Ever since you were a little girl, you were a daddy’s girl. He was a biker with a heart of gold. You were raised in the deep heart of Texas- guns, the bible, Church, and being a lady. That didn’t mean you weren’t raised to stick up for yourself. Your father’s biker buddies were like your uncles. They were there for every birthday, every Christmas, every school play, and you adored them all. 

You were seven when you were given your first motorcycle jacket. You had always drooled over your father’s motorcycle, which terrified your mother. Seeing your face light up when you slipped that jacket on over your pretty pink shirt, she sighed. Your baby sister was on her hip as she stood in your front door. Your father handed you a children’s motorcycle helmet to take you out on your first bike ride. All his buddies were waiting on the street.

As you made your way down the street, your tiny hands gripped your father’s leather jacket. You giggled the whole time, in love with the feeling. Once you stopped, he lifted you off the back and helped you out of his helmet. He chuckled at your helmet hair before taking your hand in his. “Come on, princess. Let’s get some ice cream.” He motioned to the ice cream parlor that he’d driven you to.

* * *

At nine, your father decided to buy you a paintball gun. Said every proper Texan knew how to shoot a gun, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. A paintball gun could leave one hell of a bruise, but that was better than risking death with a real gun. It was pink, and you grew to love going to play paintball with him and your sister. Your mother wasn’t a huge fan, so she would happily stay home and relax. 

* * *

When you were eleven, you shot your first real gun at a shooting range. You weren’t allowed to touch guns outside of those walls, and you understood why. However, handling a gun, and knowing how to aim was damn important. 

* * *

For your thirteenth birthday, your mother gifted you your first set of pearls. You were over the moon. Hers were something you’d been eying for ages. Once you put them on, they never came off. You’d hugged her tight before running out the door to join your father on a ride. By now, your style had evolved with your love of motorcycles. You had passed down your first leather jacket to your sister, who was now six. You were wearing dark wash jeans, boots, and a simple white top. Your hair was in a braid over your shoulder.were something you’d been eying for ages. Once you put them on, they never came off. You’d hugged her tight before running out the door to join your father on a ride. By now, your style had evolved with your love of motorcycles. You had passed down your first leather jacket to your sister, who was now six. You were wearing dark wash jeans, boots, and a simple white top. Your hair was in a braid over your shoulder.

Grinning, you climbed on the back of your father’s bike and pulled on your helmet. You waved to your mother before he pulled out of the drive way and towards the ice cream parlor. This time, his buddies weren’t with you.

Just like that first time, you climbed off the back with a huge grin on your face. The two of you sat out at one of the tables after you’d each gotten your sundae. “So, baby girl, you’re a teenager now.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I remember first getting handed that little pink blanket.”

“You’re not gonna cry, dad, are you?” You smiled, taking a bite of your ice cream.

He chuckled. “No. I just can’t believe how fast this has gone.” His eyes sparkled as he thought over all the good times that he’d shared with you. “Time’s come to talk about somethin’ important.” You groaned, hanging your head. “Yeah, yeah, but, you ain’t gettin’ out of this, young lady.” Looking up, you nodded. “I ain’t stupid. I know that boys are gonna start catchin’ your eye, and chances are, your gonna catch theirs. I want you to be careful who you spend your time with.  I want you to ignore those tough guys. Stick with the nice boys.”

You made a face. “Dad? Can we…not talk about this? It’s weird…” You hoped he would drop it.

* * *

When you were fifteen, your father was hit by a car. You were standing over his coffin, watching it being lowered into the ground. Laying over the coffin was the jacket you had grown out of the summer before. Wiping a tear from your eye, you remembered what he’d told you- to take care of your mother and sister. It was the same thing he’d told you all the time. You never knew why, until now. It felt like  your heart was being buried with him. There would be no more bike rides to the ice cream parlor, no more paintball games just because, no more bonding over his bike. It was all gone. Your little sister was holding your hand, the two of you barely moving. Your mother cried, sobbed, really, her hand over her mouth. She’d met your father when she was seventeen. They’d been together since.

Looking over at her, you made a silent vow to your father that you’d do everything you could to make sure they would be okay.

* * *

Your ‘uncles’ surprised you for your 16th birthday with a custom painted bike. It was black, with pink, and shimmering white highlights. You’d gripped them tight and cried, thanking them through your tears. Your father had bought a fixer upper a couple years prior, and they’d finished it. As soon as you could, you got your motorcycle license.

* * *

You were now eighteen years old. You’d been working at the same diner since a month after your father had been buried. It wasn’t much, as you were still in school, but it helped. Most days you rode your motorcycle to work, unless it was nasty out.

Clearing a table, you heard the bell above the door ring. You looked up and your breath caught in your throat. “I’ll be right with you, sir. Sit where ever you’d like.” You told him before taking the dishes to the back. Once you were out of his sight, you took a deep breath and pulled out your notepad to take his order.

He had seated himself by one of the windows, the setting sun making him seem like he was glowing. “Hi, can I start you off with a drink?” You smiled, hoping your cheeks were turning a bright red at this point.

Turning to you, he smirked. “Coke. Thanks.”

Nodding, you turned on your heel to get him his soda. He watched you walk away, enjoying how your jeans fit. It didn’t take you long to return with his drink. You set it down with a straw. “Are you ready to order, or would you like a moment?”

He leaned on his elbows, licking his lips. His eyes moved down to your red lips for a moment. “I’d like to order.” He started. “I think I’ll start with your number.”

You were taken aback. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“I’m new in town. You’re cute, seem friendly enough.” He shrugged. “Thought maybe we could go out sometime. _Unless_ you think your parents would object to you riding on the back of a bike.”

It was your turn to smirk. “That bike out there? The _only_ one besides yours? Is mine.” He looked shocked.

“Color me impressed. Well, I’ll take the burger and fries.” He told you, lacing his fingers together.

You jotted that down before looking back up at him. “And I’d be careful. This is a small town. The only other bikers you’ll run into? They’re my uncles.” His smirk faltered for a minute, making you chuckle as you walked away.

* * *

Every night for the next two weeks, he was there. In the same spot. Every night he’d ordered the same thing. Every night, you’d have a little banter. Finally, one night, on his receipt, you’d written your number, and your name in your neat handwriting. He was your last customer for the night, so after that, you’d clocked out.

He watched you walk out of the diner to your bike, pulling your motorcycle jacket on. It was clear that despite your initial reaction to him, you were very sure of yourself.

You’d gotten a call from him the next morning, which shocked you. You were starting a load of laundry as you spoke with him, laughing at something he said, when your sister came in. “Sis, I need a ride to dance class.” She told you.

“Alright, hun. I’ll be right there.” You smiled at her before she ran off to get her things together. “I gotta go. My sister needs a ride.”

“Any way we could meet up?”

You thought about it for a minute. “Meet me in town at the ice cream parlor. I’ll be there in half an hour. She sleeps over her friend’s house on Saturdays, so we have time to kill.”

The two of you hung up and you grabbed your purse and keys before meeting her outside. One of your neighbors had been selling her old used car, so you’d bought it. You’d given her what you could, and then made payments on the rest. It wasn’t the best, but it worked.

Finally, you were at the ice cream parlor. You didn’t even know his name at this point, but he knew yours. “Y/N!” You turned, smiling at him.

“You know, I _still_ don’t know your name.”

“You can call me Luc.” He shrugged. “Come on, my treat.”

The two of you sat and laughed for a few hours. He was extremely easy to talk to. Of course, he was exactly the kind of guy your father had warned you about years ago. It didn’t seem to bother you, though.

* * *

That’s how you spent your Saturdays from then on- laundry, dropping your sister at dance class, and a date with Luc. You’d fallen for him way too easily, and you knew that. That didn’t mean you fought it, though.

You’d been seeing him for six months when you first started sleeping with him.

At eight months, he dropped the bomb that he was leaving. He’d never even intended to stay that long, he just wanted to pass through. You’d caught his eye, though.

You felt your heart clench as your father’s words rang in your ears: _“Baby girl, he’s playing you.”_


	2. Biggest Regret

After Luc had left, you were angry, and heartbroken. You also felt like an idiot for falling for that trap. He’d asked you to go with him, but you couldn’t. You had your mother and sister counting on you. So, you watched him drive off, taking your heart with him.

Over time, you moved on. You stopped hoping to see him walk through the door of the diner. You stopped hoping your phone would ring. Hoping got you know where.  

When you were 20, a new biker moved to town. Your uncle’s buddy asked him to help out his son. Give him a fresh start. He’d had a crush on you from the moment you said ‘hello’. Told your uncle that he’d marry you some day. You found out he was turning 24 a month after moving to town. You’d made him a cake and kissed his cheek.

Despite appearances, Troy was a perfect gentleman. You dating him was safe, really, which was why you accepted at first. Then, you fell in love with him.

That had been five years ago. Now, you were married, had a three year old son, Kyle, and had Sunday dinners with your mother. Lucifer hadn’t been a painful thought in your mind in ages. You’d hear a song, or see a picture and he’d pass through your mind, but that was it.

Kyle was with your mother while you, Troy, and your uncles went for a ride. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and the group of you planned to go for a nice long ride, turn around, stop at the ice cream parlor, and then all head home. Just like you had a hundred times before.

Pulling into the parlor parking lot, you slid off your bike, and put your helmet on the seat. You were dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, knee high black boots, a white tank top, and your motorcycle jacket. Troy put his arm over your shoulder as you all made your way in.

You walked in and stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat. You still worked at the diner, but as a manager, so everyone knew you. The waitress behind the counter had pointed to you the second the door opened, saying something to the man sitting there. He turned, and you were met with cool blue eyes.

“You okay, babe?” Troy asked, noting the look on your face.

Smiling up at him, you nodded. “Give me a minute? I’ll be right over.” You kissed him gently and patted his chest. He kissed you back and motioned for the others to follow. As soon as he was sitting at a booth, you walked over to Lucifer. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “What, were you hoping to come back for old times sake? One last lay?” Your jaw was tight.

“No.” He said simply. “I wanted to see you.”

You laughed. “Right. After 7 years you just randomly decided ‘hey, I’m going to go visit that girl I duped!’” He heard the anger and pain in your voice. “Don’t waste your time. You lost your shot a long, long time ago.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I never stopped thinking about you.” You scoffed at that. “I knew you were upset with me. I kept telling myself I’d give you time, and come back. And then life happened.”

“Life happened?” Your hands moved to your hips. “While you were out screwing whoever, I got married, we have a three year old son, and we’re hoping to try for another soon.” You saw the heartbreak roll across his face. Feeling eyes on you, you glanced over to see your group looking at the two of you. Your gaze went back to your old flame. “I loved you, Lucifer. I just wasn’t worth it.”

You went to walk away, but he gently grabbed your wrist. “My biggest regret was walking away.”

Snatching your arm away, you took a deep breath and walked away, forcing yourself not to cry.”

When you got to the booth, Troy got up and cupped your cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“That’s Lucifer.” You said quietly, looking up at him. His face darkened. He knew exactly who Lucifer was.

“What’s that dirtbag doing here?”

You shrugged. “Said he just wanted to see me. I told him off.” He pulled you close, glaring at Lucifer and kissing the top of your head.

* * *

Sitting on the floor with Kyle, you were confused when there was a knock at the door. “Stay here, sweetie.” You told him before getting up. Opening the door, you saw the sheriff. “Everything okay?” You asked, worried.

“Well…” He wasn’t sure how to put this. “Troy’s in intensive care.” Your eyes went wide. “He was jumped, took a pretty bad beating. But, there’s more.” How could that possibly get any worse. Your husband was in the ICU! Tearing up, you nodded, letting him know to go on. “There were some pictures stapled to his body.”

“Pictures?!” What kind of sick fuck does things like that.

He nodded, a solemn look on his face. “They were of Troy, and another woman.” You heart shattered on the floor.

You swallowed. “Can you see who it is?” Why were you so eager to know who your husband was with?

“Your sister.” It felt like your whole entire world had just fallen to pieces all in one conversation. Holding your stomach, you felt like you were going to be sick. “There was a note. No one can make sense of it- but it’s for you.” He handed you a photocopy of it.

## Y/N-

## Be happy.

## Be safe.

## He got what he deserved.

## You deserve the very best.


End file.
